


Of pancakes, swings and other ventures

by Wortspiel



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Parents Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, TARDIS Coral
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22899136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wortspiel/pseuds/Wortspiel
Summary: Post-Journey's End with a tiny change - About 5 years have passed between Rose's first 'final goodbye' to the Doctor at Bad Wolf Bay and the first successful test of the Dimensional Cannon.Domestic adventures lying ahead! And a bit of alien threat maybe.
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 24
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

It all seemed like a weird dream ever since the distinct sound of the TARDIS disappearing echoed across the forlorn strip of sand. Dårlig Ulv-Stranden. Never ever had he imagined, nor even considered, the possibility of himself standing there, watching his beloved ship vanishing into nothingness. Never to be seen again. But there he was. 

Only the constant warmth, the familiar feeling of fingers laced through his, kept the gnawing sense of discomfort at bay. Really, it was disconcerting. Knowing that this was, most likely, the last planet he would ever visit. The only slim slither of sky he would ever be able to look up to from now on. The same stars sprinkling the endless dark, every single night, till the very end. He shivered. 

That was new as well. He was more sensitive – no, that was not it. Wrong word. More susceptible to outside influences, such as cold wind or the constant drizzle raining down on them. In fact, he guessed he was a lot less sensitive, generally speaking, half-human body and all considered.

He was still able to assess his physiology to some level, given the lucky fact his brain was still Time Lord and functioning perfectly. But as far as he could tell, there was no efficient way to influence his body. No control about temperature, energy balance, blood flow, digestion or whatsoever. At least not to the extent that he was used to. It would take some time, coming to terms with that. 

He had been silent. Much too silent for Rose’s taste. She knew it so well, that gob of him, usually never resting, chattering away without a pause for breath. His present silence was eerie. It was… different. And it worried her. 

At first, she hadn’t really noticed. On their way up the hill, headed for the inn at which she had stayed last time as well, all three of them had been quiet - except for her Mum calling Pete to send them a Zeppelin, as soon as she got a signal. They had all been in their very own thoughts. It hadn’t taken Jackie long to sort through hers though and as soon as the three of them had settled in a rented hotel room, she was rambling about all the things that the Doctor had been missing out on since their last meeting. It was almost comical, seeing her there, sipping warm tea and prattling away about Tony’s latest achievements - as if nothing had happened. No dimensional jump, no encounter with Daleks, no world saving. Her mother was just as used to it all by now as she was.

So, while she was at it, describing Tony's very first trip to the potty in all detail, Rose took the opportunity, to observe the Doctor. This new new Doctor with just one heart and a smidge of Donna Noble.  
As he sat beside her, crisscross applesauce on the stiff hotel bed mattress, he looked, well, just like the other him. Brown damp hair, still sticking up and defying gravity, down to his sneaker clad feet, he was, without doubt, the Doctor. There was no way questioning that. 

As was his behaviour. His responses to Jackie’s stories were undeniably him. Ingenious, witty and smiley - but somewhat reserved.   
There was something lying deep within those well-known brown eyes, that made her uncomfortable in a way that she could not quite explain. Something alien. He was undeniably the Doctor. But was he her Doctor? 

They hadn’t waited long for the Zeppelin. A few hours that each of them passed in their own way in the limited space of one little hotel room. He had settled for listening to all of Jackie’s enthusiastic tales of everyday life, taking a shower and leafing through a book he found in one of the nightstands. As all three of them boarded the aircraft, each of them looked equally tired. It didn’t take long for Rose and her mother to fall asleep in the comfy seats against each other, while he observed the landscape beneath them, idly drifting by.

As he now set his feet onto the gravelled pathway leading up to the mansion, some striking changes sprang at him. The posh aura, the estate had been emanating on their first visit, was gone. It looked bright and happy today. Family friendly even. ‘Lived in’ was probably the most accurate description.

The lawn was no longer meticulously groomed. Instead he spotted several children’s toys in the green and if he wasn't mistaken, he could make out some swings and a slide down the hill. A smile spread on his face. Rose and especially Jackie had done this place some good. Hands in his pockets and for once, since his arrival in this dimension, not overthinking his current situation, he followed both women back to their shared home.

Tony had, as most children did, a strange sense to notice immediately if something was off. He knew his sister had an important but very dangerous job. He understood that every single goodbye would mean she had to do something risky somewhere around the world. But when first his sister and then his mother had told him goodbye with that intensity a few hours ago, he had been anxious he would see neither of them ever again. He had not dared telling his fears to anybody. Not even to his father.

Speaking them out loud made it more… real. Somehow. At least it felt like that. Even though he knew, deep inside, that speaking it out loud did not change anything, he had kept quiet about it and spent the past hours alone in his room, contemplating his situation. He had tried to be strong. He had tried to imagine himself alone with his father and Rose. The tiny dog, Rose, which had never learned listening to any other name. He had tried accepting his fate. And he had cried, silently and curled up between his stuffed animals, until he had eventually fallen asleep.

The ring of the front door, once and then twice, had brought him back to reality. With sleep in his eyes and a sense of disorientation, he rubbed his face and slid out of his bed onto the soft carpet. Then it came all back. His mother and sister leaving, his fears, all those bad feelings. And now the front door rang. Dawning realization chased the sleepiness out of his body and seconds later he was pelting down the stairs and straight into the entrance hall. Just in the right moment, to witness his father opening the door and revealing his mother. A squeal of happiness bubbled over his lips and he did not waste time. A few steps and a giant leap brought him into his mother’s arms, and he buried his face deep into her shoulder. 

“Tony, love, everything’s alright. We’re all back, Rose ‘n me. We even brought a visitor.”, his mother cooed as she stroked his back. Indeed, he did hear his father speaking to his sister and he risked a glance over his mother’s shoulder to spot them hugging on the doorstep. But there was also a voice he did not recognize. A man’s voice, clear as day and friendly, exchanging greetings with his father. Curiosity took over and he used his mother’s arm as leverage to get a glimpse at the stranger. 

And there he stood, hands in his pockets and grinning: His idol. The hero straight out of Rose’s stories. The adventurous alien with weird spikey hair: The Doctor!


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor had only been with them for less than an hour, but Tony was already absolutely fascinated by him. Rose couldn’t blame him. After all the stories she had told him about this man and his adventures – alternated of course, to make them children-friendly – it was only natural for him to be curious. How often did you get a chance to meet your outer space childhood hero after all? 

She smiled, as she watched her little brother bouncing around the Doctor’s long legs, as he took in his surroundings. The boy had taken it on himself to show him around the house and pointed out all the important bits.  
“And over there-“, he waved his arm in the general direction , “is the kitchen.”   
Conspiratorially, but well understandable, he added: “Mommy hides the sweets in the white cupboard. She thinks I can’t reach it, but if I take a chair, I can.”

“Thanks for the hint, buddy”, she heard the Doctor whisper and almost rolled her eyes at him winking. Maybe Tony should have kept this secret to himself. If the Doctor had retained his sweet tooth in this body, the secret storage of sweets would soon be raided.

Late at night the Doctor lay awake in the room he had been offered. He had expected nothing else. The house was spacious and had a few guestrooms for friends and family to stay over. This one was special though. He knew the moment he set one foot into the room, that Rose must have had a say in the furnishing. It faintly resembled the TARDIS’ library with its wine-red sofa and several high shelves lining two of the dark walls. All of them were filled to the brim with books in numerous languages. He had dragged the tips of his fingers over the golden lettered backs before he dropped onto the overly patterned bedspread.

He felt physically exhausted. Run down. Finished. More than he had in years.   
And that just after one single day. Not that it surprised him. It came with the human share of his body and he would have been foolish to believe he’d be spared of that. It still felt off.

Despite the physical exhaustion, he was wide awake and pondering. He really could consider himself the lucky one. Regardless of all the disadvantages this flawed incarnation of his body brought with it, he was the one to spend his time with Rose. Something he had longed for ever since he’d said goodbye to her on that godforsaken strip of greyish sand.

He would wither and die within a regular human lifespan. And he was perfectly fine with that, overjoyed even, as long as he got to spend the entire time with her. What really made him uncomfortable was the predicament of being stuck to one place and time for the remaining years of his life.   
Intuitively his fingers slid into the breast pocket of his suit, grasping the rounded object inside. He pulled it out and held it up against the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains.

A tiny piece of coral, resting convoluted and crude between the pads of his fingers. He twisted and turned it, inspected it from all sides and eventually cocooned it in his palms. It felt comfortably warm against his skin, humming with energy. Alive.

Rose stared back into the eyes of her very own reflection. Now, that she had taken all make-up off, she looked pale and worn out. And that description was worded kindly. All that hard work, all that preparation and eventually the jumping through dimensions had not gone past her without leaving any traces. She had eaten less, slept far too infrequently and the physical and mental stress had taken a lot out of her.

Shouldn’t she be happy with the outcome? Less then 20 metres away, separated by nothing but one single room, lay the man she had been doing most of this for. She should have been by his side now. After all that time they spent apart, was it fair of her to just retire to her room and leave him all by himself?  
She forced a strained smile and immediately dropped it. Nothing of it looked happy. Neither did her reflection look relieved, nor proud, nor jubilant – as it should do. Instead there was Rose gazing back at her, tired and worried. 

_He needs you. That’s very me._

Was it? Was he _him_? Was that even the point of those words? She hadn’t cared about that down at the bay, when she had pulled him in and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Before she had realized, what she had done, the distinct sound of the TARDIS disappearing had brought her back to reality. And he was gone. The other him. The original one. Her Doctor.

The one that was somewhere in the other dimension now, in his ship, drifting through space. She felt her throat constricting as she imagined it. At least he had Donna with him. The thought was, especially in this disheartening situation, somewhat comforting. Although she had not known her for long, the short time with her had proven her to be anything the Doctor could wish for at the moment. A reliable companion. A friend. And now she was just as smart as him as well. Was it wrong to wish for swapping places with her?

She shook her head. She’d try to sleep. To clear her mind and think it over in the morning. She was tired enough to do so, even with the general disorder in her head. It _was_ fair to request some time for herself. To that, they had never shared a room on the TARDIS anyways. She didn’t even know, if he had expected them to do that now. Despite knowing him so well, she never could be dead certain what crossed that chaotic mind of his. Again, she shook her head. Tomorrow. She had to get some rest. 

A loud crash had her sitting upright in bed in an instant. Breathing shallow and quick, she checked her surroundings. Bed. _Her_ bed. She was at home? Right! She had come back yesterday- _CRASH_. 

Without second thoughts, she stumbled first out of bed and then out of her room. Hurrying down the stairs with growing apprehension, one thought tumbled over the other. Had something followed them here? Where was the ruckus even coming from? She turned a corner. The kitchen! It was coming from the kitchen. Grabbing the first thing she saw - one of Pete’s golf clubs, leaning in the entrance hall - she jumped into the kitchen.   
Golf club raised to strike, she froze. 

Two innocent faces were staring back at her.   
Tony, who was covered head to toes in flour, was lapping jam off his fingers. The Doctor, equally covered in white, had stopped dusting him off with a hand broom. He raised a brow. 

"Wanna have some pancakes? We're almost done." 

Rose dropped her hands, complete with golf club, to her sides and shook her head in astonishment at the chaos surrounding them.   
"How? You've only been here for half a day?" 

Half an hour of the vacuum cleaner rumbling and the Doctor whining (“If I had my sonic, we'd be done within minutes!”) later, all three of them were sitting around the (still lightly dusted) breakfast table.   
While Tony and the Doctor were wolfing down pancakes, equally thick covering of jam inclusive, Rose couldn't help but smile. Chin propped up on one arm, she observed the two of them. She had a lot of questions. Like: Why were both of them up at six in the morning baking pancakes? Why and, especially, _how_ had they managed to get a bag of flour exploding all over the place? And how was it possible for her mum and Pete to sleep through all of this peacefully?

But all those questions would wait for later. Right now, she was content just watching her two boys enjoying their chaotic breakfast.

Seeing the Doctor, sitting there with rolled up shirt sleeves, tie carelessly tossed over his shoulder, made her stomach flip. The surreal feeling of domesticity crept into her chest. She wasn’t quite sure, if she was willing to accept it as such. But for now, she just basked in the warmth of the situation.


	3. Chapter 3

He had not slept much. In fact, he was not sure if he had slept at all. He had drifted off once, but that couldn’t have been for long. At least the hammering headache behind his temples told him so. It had accompanied him through the better part of the night, not helping him with the desperate task to get some sleep for this battered body.

He had even tried some methods against insomnia, that he had picked up throughout his travels. Though counting sheep had been the funniest to imagine (which wasn’t helping at all), reciting historic Falorian poetry had worked best. Still, to no avail. 

Around five in the morning – his sense of time had not diminished, to his relief – a hesitant knock on the door had jolted him out of his rumination. His first guess was Rose, but the second set of soft taps against the wooden door made him revise his hunch. Too low.

“Come on in”, he replied, propping himself up on his elbows. A click of the door breached the nights silence and Tony peeked through the crack. A mixture of curiosity and reluctance was written all over his face. A simple nod was enough, to make his curiosity win the battle. As quietly as he could, he slid through the door and shut it behind him.

As he turned, the boy seemed a bit perplexed, scanning the Doctor up and down, obviously wondering why one would go to bed in his suit. Still he came in and padded across the carpet in his sock-clad feet.

The Doctor had sat up on the edge of his bed and indicated the boy, with a pat of his hand, to make himself comfortable beside him.

“What brings you here, buddy? Can’t sleep?”

The boy hesitated, then heaved himself onto the mattress, dangling his feet off, as soon as he had found a comfy position. Then he nodded.

“Neither can I”, admitted the Doctor with a shrug. “Anything I can help you with?”

Tony bit his lower lip. A habit he had, without a doubt, picked up from his older sister.   
“Can I ask you some questions?” 

The Doctor nodded and watched the boy’s shoulders relax. Had he been up all night and pondering as well? He was sure the Tylers had not told him too much about the current events and his family’s backstory. He was too young to be confronted with most of it. Obviously, Rose had told him some of her stories involving himself. It was hard to say, if she had sold him those stories as the truth or as made-up bedtime narrations. Either way, the boy now knew, that nothing of it had been made up. Neither himself, nor the dangers that lurked around him. Was that, what he’d been thinking about? 

His musings were cut short, when the Tony’s head snapped up and the first question bubbled out of him.   
“Are you really an alien? Like – a real one! From out there?”

He waved one arm into the direction of the slither of star sprinkled night sky between the curtains.  
It was a relief, that there was nothing but curiosity in the boy’s eyes. No hint of fear. The Doctor’s face lit up at that. One brow raised, he nodded.   
“f’course. I’ve flown past a few of those stars.” That wasn’t entirely true. He hadn’t done that in this dimension. But it was close enough. And it made the boy bounce up and down on the bed in delight.

“So you’ve got a spaceship? The TARDIS, Rose said! Is that real?”

Again, he nodded and grinned, ignoring the tiny sting of pain, the question inflicted.  
“Had, yes. Not anymore. You could call me… stranded. Quite literally.”

Tony’s arms flopped down to his sides and he pulled a face.  
“Aww, I thought you’d take me for a trip. You took Rose! She told me. Lots an’ lots of stories.”  
He ticked off on his fingers.  
“About uh, the future, other planets and stars, aliens, visiting very old earth people, robots an’, an’ space pirates!”

The Doctor couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Very old earth people’ was indeed a very inventive and interesting description of time travel.

“I bet you’d’ve made a great companion.”

Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh yes! I would’ve shown those pirates!”

Untangling his arms, he clambered to his feet and imitated the pose of holding a sabre.

“En garde!”, he exclaimed into the night, brandishing his imaginary blade. Until the opening of a door down the hall made him clap his hand over his mouth a second later.

In utter silence they stared at each other. Raising his index finger to his mouth, to stifle a chuckle of his own, the Doctor pressed his lips into a thin line. Tony imitated him with silent vigour until the door, presumably of his parents’ bedroom, shut with another click.  
Quietly snickering, both of them let their hands sink and Tony dropped back on the bed beside the Doctor. 

“Say”, he piped up, this time sotto voce. “do you really have two hearts?”

This time, it was the Doctors turn to hesitate. He had settled for an answer, when a loud growl of his stomach interrupted himself.

“Hey”, he said instead. “What do you think of pancakes?”

That had been an hour earlier. Now he was sitting at the breakfast table, spreading strawberry jam onto a large pancake. He could feel Rose’s gaze boring into him as he ate. Had at least she been able to close her eyes and dream for a while? A glimpse at her made him assume that she had gotten a few hours of rest. She looked a lot better than the evening before. Even though her ruffled hair and rumpled pyjamas made him guess their little flour incident had woken her up early. He felt a bit guilty for that. 


	4. Chapter 4

Rose had left, shooing Tony away straight after their breakfast. To make him shower and take one herself, she had said, ruffling the boy's hair and releasing a cloud of floury dust into the air.

The Doctor took it on himself to clean away the remaining leftovers of their pancake-baking endeavours. Even though there wasn't any need to. The maid would have done it, if he had left things the way there were. The Tylers owning a mansion along with staff surely had its advantages.

But it occupied him. Gave his hands something to work on. Lying awake for several hours had given him time to sort his thoughts and arrange himself with the new situation. There were a lot of things that would need his attention in the following days. Starting with getting to know his body and its limits and ending with developing an identity, that would enable him to live among humans for the rest of his life.

But being idle made him feel edgy. He needed to do something - whatever it was - to keep himself busy. Despite the fatigue of skipping an entire night’s sleep after saving the earth and its population.

An entire night’s sleep. How much time was lost through that? He roughly estimated 106.46 days per year if one slept an average of seven hours per night. Almost one third of a year. He shivered involuntarily, suppressing a yawn.

Humming to himself while drying off a frying pan, he did not notice Jackie's presence until her knuckles hit the doorframe.  
He almost winced. Human capacity of hearing was really limited. Otherwise he'd noticed the nearing threat before she spotted her prey. Setting the pan down beside the sink, he turned to her.

"Mornin'", she chimed. "I hadn't expected to find you cleaning. Usually you don't linger and leave clearing your mess to others."

"Oi, that's not- okay, I admit, that may contain a grain of truth."

Running a damp hand through his unruly hair, he leaned back against the counter. Arms crossed he followed her gaze up and down this body.

"You look horrible." Jackie simply commented before strolling into the kitchen and pulling a cup out of the cabinet to his left. Filling the electric kettle with tap water, she glanced at him.

With a shrug, he brushed a few remaining flecks of flour from the deep blue of his trousers.  
"It'll wash out."

"It didn't mean the suit. Though we'll have to get you something to wear today. Pete's clothing won't fit and that suit just won't do."  
She scrunched up her nose at his crumpled shirt.

He watched her pouring the hot water into her cup and throw in a teabag after. Studying his face, she grabbed another cup and filled it equally.  
"You know what? When Rose's done, we're gonna make you presentable and I'll have Pete drive you to the mall to do the shopping."

He held back a breath of relief. The prospect of trailing after Jackie from shop to shop to gather a fitting set of clothing wasn't that alluring. With Rose by his side, the trip was something to look forward to.

Jackie leaned against the counter beside him, nudged his arm with her elbow and handed him one of the steaming cups.  
"Nothing against a good hot cuppa, have ya? Time Lord or not."

He smirked and took it.

Jackie had kept her promise. As soon as Rose had come down to the living room, towel still wrapped around her head, her mother had initiated the shopping trip. Together they had raided Pete's wardrobe to find at least one shirt and one pair of trousers that fit the Doctor's skinny body enough to leave the house in.

At first, he had been sceptic. His wardrobe on the TARDIS had been enormous, his collection diverse. But ever since he wore this face, he always came back to his preferred choice. Suit and tie. Pinstriped, brown or blue. His favourite.

That was what he had aimed for, apart from several necessary additions. Rose, however, had persuaded him to try something new. By now he was ecstatic. Pulling her from shop to shop and slipping into and out of various sets of suits, button-ups, jeans and t-shirts, he had eventually collected two big bags of various purchases.

Over the course of the afternoon, he wasn't able to avoid noticing the lingering gazes Rose darted at him whenever he was occupied sifting through the assortment of clothes a shop had to offer. It was a mixture of warmth, wariness and curiosity that he read in her eyes, whenever he turned to her unexpectedly.

He wondered what went through her mind. If she was unsure of whether he really was who he looked like or if she was condemning him for his actions on the Dalek's ship. Or was it general disappointment in him or the other him after all those years of trying to come back to her original dimension? After all, both of them had decided to drop her off on that forlorn beach, _again_.

Whatever it was that sparked this guardedness in her, he wasn't entirely sure on how to breach the subject. Especially out here, among other people. So instead of trying it, he reverted to his usual tactics. Talking about anything and everything in order to steer clear of the delicate topics.

He rambled about his adventures with Martha and Donna, meeting Shakespeare and Agatha Christie, waving at floating fat and the menace through the Sontarans. He even told her about a planet he visited that worshipped cheese. And he encouraged her to tell him about the dimension cannon, about her life and work here and about whatever she was willing to tell. But despite his efforts to keep the conversation light and cheerful, an uncomfortable sense of uneasiness accompanied them through the entire afternoon.

Rose had observed the Doctor throughout the day. It relieved her to see him back to his usual bubbly, loquacious self. But she knew him well enough to differentiate between him talking to tell her something or him rambling to cover up insecurities of any kind. Today, it was without a doubt, the latter one.

Whatever he was speaking about throughout their trip, he was always just scratching on the surface, emphasising the positive aspects and leaving out problematic parts. He was strewing jokes and random digressions wherever he could. And he rarely answered enquiries in depth. Instead he’d ask her about herself, her life here and her work. They even talked about the derelict and spray-painted building they passed on their way here. The old shopping centre that would be torn down the following morning to make room for a new underground carpark. But whatever they spoke about, it felt like both of them were carefully tiptoeing around the important questions.

How they’d move on, for example, now that either of them had had time to overthink the situation. What their relationship was and how it would change. And how he would manage living as a human, with all those domestic doors and carpets he was so terrified of. She was going to ask those questions, if he wasn’t willing to. Not here and not now. But there was the need to talk things out if this was meant to work.

Their last stop had been an optician the Doctor wasn’t able to go past. As soon as they reached the display, he was glued to the window, studying the spectacle frames with fascination. To her question if he actually _needed_ spectacles, he nodded with vigour. She was sure he wasn’t needing them for seeing, however.

He soon had found specs he felt good in. He pushed them onto his nose and regarded his appearance from all angles in a mirror. It was a tortoise shell frame, narrow and angular. Almost like the one she had seen him sporting so many times.

Satisfied with his choice, they bought the frame – earning confused looks from the seller, as to why he chose not to add any glasses.

He would do that himself, he explained, only deepening the confusion of the man.

Rose had called them a cab, while he had been immersed in the choice of his spectacles. As they left the mall, he still had them in his hands, grinning with satisfaction. A wave of warmth rolled through her, seeing him so carefree, if only for a short moment.

The cab already waited for them, as they stepped out of the mall. He shoved the newest addition to his personal belongings into the pocket of his new coat. Which was not as long as his old one, but equally brown.

After they had loaded his purchases into the car’s boot, he held open the door for Rose and slid in after her. It relieved him, that she took the middle seat, right beside him, instead of moving over to the other side. A tiny success.

As soon as their ride home had begun, he felt the excitement of their shopping tour slowly fade into languor. The night's insomnia caught up to him and despite his efforts to stay awake, he felt the exhaustion seeping back into his bones. Eyes burning and his limbs growing heavy, he sank into the seat. The warmth of Rose’s body did not help in keeping his lids from falling shut.

Rose was deep in thought when something hit her shoulder with a soft thud. Turning as far as she could with the warm weight on her body, she spotted the Doctor’s face resting against her, relaxed and innocent. She hadn’t noticed him falling asleep right beside her and it startled her more than it should. She had last seen him asleep right after his regeneration from big and blue-eyed to thin and sideburns. He hadn’t been that calm back then, all feverish and suffering. The memory still made her tense.

She had never found him sleeping after that. Somehow, he had always managed to hide himself away from her, whenever he needed rest. She had respected it and never questioned him why. As he had valued her privacy. It had been an unspoken rule on the TARDIS that each of them cherished.

Now she witnessed him, sleeping so placidly and almost vulnerable, despite his remaining charisma. It made her smile and intuitively she nestled closer into the unfamiliar human warmth he was radiating.

She immediately recognized it. Even after the five long years they spent apart from each other. That unique scent of his. It was a bit different now. She couldn't say more human - mainly because it was hard to tell what 'human' scent was composed of. But it was still undeniably the Doctor: Fresh and sharp like mint, permeated by a fine note of oil and the pages of antique library books. A vague hint of honey.

No matter how hard she tried to stay attentive and objective around him, this war-born version of her Doctor, it made her feel at home. A content feeling settled deep in her stomach. With a soft sigh, unbeknownst to him, she buried her nose into the tickling locks of his hair.

  
Late at night, the house below him soundly asleep, the Doctor sat on the roof and gazed up into the starlit sky. It resembled his own. The one he had travelled so many years. The one that he knew like the back of his hand. This one was missing stars. Tiny spots that should have been glowing bright among the others. Here their places were empty and dark. He spotted new ones instead at other locations. Unknown territory that he was unable to travel. For now.

He could relate to all those emotions he had read in Rose's eyes over the day. That uncertainty of seeing something so familiar and still so strangely foreign. The swirling mixture of wariness and wonder. But did she share his longing for exploration?...


	5. Chapter 5

Three days had elapsed since his shopping trip with Rose. He had thanked her father as soon as they had come back to the mansion. It felt wrong, being dependent on the man’s financial aid, but there was not much he could do about it for the moment.

He’d need to take a job. A proper job. Certainly not something he was looking forward to. He had pictured himself, trapped behind a desk covered in documents, monotonously typing away on a laptop. The though was, in all honesty, terrifying. He’d rather be facing another army of Daleks than that.

It was thoughts like this, that kept him awake at night, rolling from one side of his bed to the other restlessly or wandering through the silent house at night, mulling over the life he was leading now. Again and again he found himself pacing, just to _move_. He’d develop a full-blown restless legs syndrome if things kept going as they were.

And yet, here he was again, loitering in the living room around 4 am, hanging upside down on the sofa, legs dangling over the backrest. He’d have to move back to his room soon, before sheer exhaustion claimed his consciousness in this place and position. With a sigh, he righted himself up and trudged back up the stairs into the room he had been assigned.

Early the next morning, the Doctor stood in his en suite, staring into the mirror. What he saw, he did not like. It almost felt as if a stranger was gazing back at him, very discontent with what he saw. That face, that he had gotten so used to, was slowly changing. And not for the better.

First off there was a short stubble covering his jaw, cheeks and neck. Which was nothing bad in general. He'd never tried growing a beard. His Time Lord counterpart had better control over this hairy business. If he didn't want it, it didn't grow. Simple as that.

What bothered him about it was that it appeared patchy in some places. Frowning, he ran his hand over the rough hair and decided it'd have to go for now.  
As he lathered the lower part of his face with shaving foam and reached for the razor, he studied his appearance further.

His complexion looked certainly less sanguine. Freckles stood out copper coloured against paling skin. The dark circles, slowly manifesting beneath his eyes, underlined that awareness.  
He had slept at least a few hours the previous night. But not enough to cover this body's demands.

Rose was about rap her knuckles against the Doctor's door, when first a clatter and then a muffled string of pained complaints reached her ears.  
"Doctor?" She called instead and listened keenly for any response. Nothing.  
She tried again, this time knocking against the wood as she called. Still no response.

Nervous tension spread through her body. He was fine. He had to be. But on the other hand...

She had understood that Human-Time Lord biological metacrisis wasn't something happening on a regular basis. Were there unforeseeable consequences for either body involved? She bit her lip.

Seconds later, throwing caution to the wind, she cracked open the door and stepped into the room. Waiting and contemplating had never taken her anywhere.

The room she found was empty, except for the two big bags of essentials they had bought. Most of the things seemed to be still in the bags, but a white shirt, a striped tie and his (now clean) beloved blue trousers were hanging over the back of an armchair.

Must be his choice for today, she reasoned as she neared the door to his en suite.

It stood a few centimetres ajar and a distinct humidity along with the scent of shower gel met her face.  
"Doctor?" She called again.  
"I let myself in, sorry. I was just- Are you alright?"

This time, there was a muffled response. Despite being muffled, the indication of pain was clear.  
While she was relieved that he was conscious - she had already dreaded the worst - the realisation made her heart sink. So he was hurt after all.

Tentatively she rapped her knuckles against the door again, not completely certain on what to do.

There came no complaint, so she took it as a cue to enter.

Slipping into the humidity of his recent shower, she stepped into the bathroom and immediately spotted him sitting on the closed toilet lid, peering up at her over the fluffy white towel he was pressing to his face.

Remembering the clattering sound, her gaze flickered to the sink, spotting a razor and a few drops of blood on its rim.  
Despite the sight, a breath of relief left her lungs on its own accord.

Now, that she was sure he was - mostly - fine, she almost felt guilty for invading his privacy like that. Especially since, well, she hadn't seen him for five years.

No, she corrected herself. She had never met him five years ago. He hadn't even been alive then. He only shared the memory.

She brought her train of thought to a screeching halt. She wasn't going anywhere with it.  
And his tired lingering gaze was erasing her doubts for the moment. Still, the situation seemed irreal.

Willing herself to kneel in front of him, she pried the towel from his hands and lowered it to get a look.  
There it was. A gash on his right cheek, standing out flaring red against his skin.  
Taking a clean edge of the towel and carefully dapping away tiny rivulets of his blood, she shook her head.

"You scared me just now, you know that, right? You could have told me you were okay."

Silently she wondered how this impossible man managed to leave the crucible _twice_ without so much as a scratch and a few days later nearly cut himself to death with a razor from the mall.

"Would you have believed me?"

She halted at his words, thinking them over. Another look into his weary face made her answer clear.  
"No," she concluded in defeat.

"See.”

A small smile graced his lips, stretching the damaged skin of his cheek. He winced.

"Wouldn't want you sitting at the breakfast table, wondering if I was alright, would I?"

He took the towel back from her and stood, breaking the awkward moment of unfamiliar intimacy. She followed his example suit but remained rooted to the spot as he stepped back to the mirror, regarding himself and the cut in his skin with chagrin.

Only now she found time to take in his entire appearance. He was clothed, sans shirt, which was carelessly thrown to the tiled floor.

His hair was still wet and sticking to his forehead and by now, he was brushing his teeth, observing her intently through the mirror.

The sight was so weirdly domestic that it threw her completely off track. Regaining her composure, she stepped back to the door.

“Just.. Just tell me when you’re done. I’ll wait in my room.”

With that, she left him to his own devices, completely forgetting about what had initially brought her to him.

Jackie and Tony were already sitting around the breakfast table when the Doctor and Rose eventually entered the room. Peter was missing, the Doctor noticed, pulled back a chair and sat himself next to Tony. The boy grinned at him and chirped his good morning.

Rose, who had occupied the seat across, next to her mother, had noticed as well.  
"Where's dad?”

It was Sunday morning after all. The only day of the week each of them took the time to actually have a meal as a family. It was unusual for Pete to miss it, especially since he was the one who had initiated it, despite all the work piling on his desk.

"He got a call early this morning. Tony, love, you can go to your room an’ play, alright?" Jackie replied, handing Rose a piece of toast.

The boy pulled a face. Rose and the Doctor had just come. But he noticed the unspoken intention in his mother’s voice. There was something going on, he was not supposed to hear. Obediently he nodded, slipped from his chair and left the room. Just to hide beside the door, listening carefully.

"UNIT, I think," Jackie continued a moment after Tony left.  
"He didn't tell me, though. Probably scared I'd run off to help again."

A smile tugged at the Doctor's lips. It must've been hard for him to sit and wait while his wife and daughter had been off to save the world in another universe.

He watched Rose frown.  
"Is something up? I didn't receive any message."

Jackie nodded.  
"Apparently some people were reported missing last night. Around five in the morning, all of them magically appeared at the same spot. Despite having no initial connection to each other. A woman found them wandering around all dazed."  
She shrugged.  
"That was all I could overhear."

Rose's frown deepened at that and she dropped the toast back down onto her plate.  
"He should have told me. I'd have come along."

An awkward silence ensued while Jackie picked her words carefully.  
"He said you'd have enough on your hands right now. Dismantling the dimension cannon... and such."

_And such_. What a nice way to refer to his presence, the Doctor thought.  
Dismissing that, he focused on the news.

People missing was something to worry about, yes. But people missing and reappearing together suddenly was quite another matter. Especially if none of them had known each other previously. No surprise UNIT was involved already. It was something he felt the need to stick his nose into. And where could he get a better chance to do exactly that, than in the headquarters?

“Rose?” He queried, before she could answer her mother. “That cannon. Would you mind me having a look at it before you strip it down to pieces?”

And the second, she returned his gaze, he noticed the gears turning in her head. A grin spread across her lips and he knew she saw right through him. _Great minds think alike_ , people said. _Fools seldom differ_ , fit them better.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is very much appreciated! I'd love to hear what you think about my story. :)
> 
> Since English is not my first-language there may be some errors in this fanfiction. Please tell me if you find some, I’ll correct them.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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